


Pieces of Home

by collectingnames



Series: Fjorclay Week [5]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Domestic, Future Fic, M/M, Nature, Post-Campaign, fjorclay, fjorclay week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23805457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collectingnames/pseuds/collectingnames
Summary: Fjord and Caduceus make a habit of giving each other terrariums of places they've been.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Series: Fjorclay Week [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710829
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	Pieces of Home

**Author's Note:**

> And that makes seven! Oh boy, I don't think I've written this much in such a short span of time in a good long while. This references the two kids in the previous fic but none of the events so you don't need to have read it to understand what's going on.

Fjord pushes open the gates to the grove. He takes in a deep breath, enjoying the crisp, slightly floral air. There’s no one out that he can see but judging by the time of day maybe everyone’s helping prepare dinner. Before he can even knock or anything to let anyone know he’s made it back the door of the temple swings open and a blur of pink and teal throws itself into his arms. He tries to keep his balance but even backpedaling a step or two he trips on his own feet. Caduceus’s hair spills down around them in a peachy pink curtain.

Fjord chuckles and brushes back some of his hair behind an ear, “I’m back.”

He gets up and pulls him up to his feet, “You were gone too long.”

“Oh, hold on, I brought you something,” Fjord stops and clumsily unties the twine holding the jar to his belt.

He holds out a glass jar with holes poked into its tin lid. Inside is a shiny green beetle, scurrying around the dirt and damp leaves. It climbs up a mossy stick that pokes out of the dirt. Caduceus takes it carefully from his hands and turns it in his palms to watch as the beetle scurries along the glass.

“I found him on my way back and he uh, he reminded me of you,” he can feel his face warming just a little.

He gives him a quick peck on the lips, “Thank you. I think Belle might want a look at him first though.”

Colton suddenly sticks his head out of the doorway, “Caduceus! Get back here we’re not done chopping the vegetables!”

Fjord sighs, “Colton’s being Colton?”

He sighs in agreement, “Colton’s Colton.”

“I can hear you!” He shouts back.

“Good!”

The beetle ends up getting rehomed to Caduceus's staff but the little terrarium jar finds a home on the kitchen windowsill. Every other day or so somebody pops the latch on the lid open to water it. Seeds that Fjord hadn't realized were mixed in with the dirt sprout and take root with time, mostly wild grass but with a sprig of buttercups. 

Caduceus has to leave a brief pilgrimage with Calliope a few months later, gone two weeks at most, and he brings Fjord back a little terrarium jar of a strange cove he found when he got lost from the path. And it joins the first one on the kitchen windowsill. Fjord starts to make it a habit of packing glass jars for this exact purpose. The windowsill quickly fills and the jars spread throughout the temple, taking up any space they can find for them. Though that quickly runs out too. It's getting a little ridiculous once Fjord runs out of ideas as well as space, attempting to stack the newest jars. Clarabelle catches him in the act and just gives him an 'are you sure about that?' look. So he finally caves and makes a bookcase for them, Belle asks the wood to behave and he's suddenly left with something that looks half handmade, half natural. The very first jar keeps its place of honor on the kitchen windowsill but the rest are all quickly gathered up and arranged carefully in the new bookcase in their bedroom. It's only half full by design. 

Though it quickly fills once it shifts from one for every place they go to one for every important thing. There's a jar of Port Damali once they bring Cedar home. And it's joined by one of the Grove not too long after when Camus is born. A few of the jars are tiny and just filled with handfuls of dirt from the two of them wanting to join in on it. Both of them give passionate defenses of why it's of vital importance that the dirt from behind the garden shed is so meaningful and needs a spot on the shelf. They don't have to make their case but they do it with such fervor Fjord's always curious how exactly they're going to argue that he just stands there and nods along while Caduceus deftly plucks the jar from their hands and puts it on a shelf while they're talking. 

At some point, the rest of the Nein learn what their terrariums are for. The Clays are all seated around the table for breakfast one morning when there's a _fwump_ noise on the doorstep. The ozone scent of magic still hangs in the air when Caduceus checks the door and finds a glass jar of silty dirt and fragments of raw quartz. A paper tag tied around the lid reads "Consecuted" in Caleb's handwriting which raises a mountain of questions that are going to have to wait just a minute but in the meantime, it's given a place on the bookcase along with the others. The next one is delivered several months later by a strange impish creature, the jar it's holding contains what looks like a scoop of someone's garden and a folded note. The imp-ish thing pushes it into Fjord's hands and runs away. Checking the note it's obviously Jester's handwriting, an update on her and Beau's life several Sendings long that only fleetingly mentions that the reason for the jar is that the Traveler "is a _god_ god now." This note may be longer than Caleb's but it provides just about as much explanation. Camus makes a new one the instant he manages to cast his first cantrip, dashing over to the graves where his fathers are tending to them to stumble over his words in his excitement asking where they keep the jars. 

Beau comes to visit alone, which strikes everyone as odd. The rest of the Nein like to visit either all together or _at least_ in pairs. Once they invite her inside she pulls out a jar of her own filled with ash and burnt wood and grapevines. 

"It's gone, Thoreau's dead, not here to bury him, just," she stops herself on what must be a swear because there are children in earshot, "look, man, I didn't know what else to do. Keep it if you want, I don't care either way."

They both insist she stays for dinner and it's not going to solve everything but some good company is a start. The jar is kept, but with all traces of Thoreau Lionett scrubbed from it.

Years into this, a move to the coast, and two more bookshelves later the rate of new terrariums slows and tapers off. It seems like everyone's finally had a chance to stop and breathe, nothing life-changing to report. It's peaceful, knowing that no one needs their caliber of help for the time being. There are an entire two years where they only receive one jar for the bookcases, no note, they don't see who left it. But they regard the moss and lichen that looks like it's from Caduceus's _Decompose_ and the dirty scrap of finely embroidered fabric and decide to keep it.

Fjord looks through the most recent bookcase, not for any one, in particular, just thinking. The house is quieter now. It has been for a while. It's just the two of them here now. Days are lazy, with evenings spent in each other's laps on the beach while the sun sets. Every now and again he gets a little restless, a second career in adventuring making its mark on him but that’s when he waits for an especially windy day to go sailing. He could probably still do simple jobs, escorting people and cargo, checking in on things for people, but little things spiral pretty fast and quite frankly he’s been in enough peril for a lifetime. Caduceus could definitely still go on a quest or two if he felt the inclination. It’s strange sometimes seeing how he’s barely changed when his own hair is more gray than not and the wrinkles around his eyes have deepened. But it’s not something worth getting hung up on right now. 

Caduceus comes up from behind and throws his arms over his shoulders, resting his head on top of his own, "What's on your mind?"

He plays with Caduceus's hair where it's spilling past his shoulders, "We really should have labeled these."

Caduceus's laugh builds, rumbling up from the bottom of his chest, "A bit late for that don't you think?"

"Yeah, but still. I can really only remember what like half of these are for," he goes on.

“Nothing wrong with a little mystery, I suppose.”

“I remember the really big ones just,” he pulls a random one filled with clover, “Who even sent us this?”

“Hmm, I think that was Veth.”

“Okay, but what is it for?”

He starts to answer, stops, “I-. One second, I remember, just. I swear I know.”

“Maybe I’m not the only one who needs them labeled,” he teases.

“Maybe so.”

“What about you? Whatchya thinking about?” 

He shrugs, which feels weird with his arms slung over his shoulders, “Not much, need to pick the tomatoes, a little tidying, no grand plans really.”

“Mind if I help?”

“Not at all,” he rearranges himself from where he’s draped over Fjord and goes to find a basket or two and some gardening gloves.

The garden is a sprawling thing stretching behind the house. Sandy paths cut between the beds to help keep the grass from getting into them. The two of them weave through the beds to the tomatoes. Caduceus fills his basket much quicker, plucking them from the vine without stopping. Fjord takes a little longer, stopping to pull weeds where they’re growing back. He’s only about half-filled his basket by the time Caduceus has to go back inside and empty his out. 

Alone in the garden, a seabreeze blows in from behind him, straight up his spine, directing his attention, and when he looks up Caduceus is standing in the doorway, framed by the life they’ve built together. 

  
  



End file.
